


Early Morning Call

by Claire



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Chris jerking Peter off, Inappropriate Uses of Olive Oil, M/M, Not up to Food Hygiene Standards
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-05-13
Updated: 2014-05-13
Packaged: 2018-01-24 14:45:33
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 801
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1608941
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Claire/pseuds/Claire
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>In which Peter's cooking breakfast and there are inappropriate uses of olive oil</p>
            </blockquote>





	Early Morning Call

**Author's Note:**

  * For [wellfourthings](https://archiveofourown.org/users/wellfourthings/gifts).



> Beta'ed by Temaris.

Chris stops in the doorway, leaning against the jamb and watches as the man in his kitchen lays several strips of bacon in the pan on the cooker, the sound of sizzling almost drowning out the music coming from the radio.

It's a sight that Chris doesn't think he'll ever stop appreciating. Peter Hale, hair mussed and wearing nothing but Chris' shirt, steadily making breakfast like he belongs there, like he belongs in Chris' life.

The shirt barely reaches the top of Peter's thighs, and Chris' cock twitches when the wolf bends over to retrieve the eggs off the bottom shelf of the fridge, shirt riding up to reveal the ass Chris was buried in both last night and earlier that morning.

"You know," Peter says, straightening back up and closing the fridge, "you could help instead of just standing there, watching." He places the eggs on the counter before turning to look at Chris.

"I could," Chris answers. "Or I could just continue to enjoy the view." His eyes drift back to Peter's barely covered ass.

Peter rolls his eyes before turning his back to Chris, reaching out to grab a bowl. "I'm a sure thing, Argent, no need to soften me up with sweet talk."

Chris pushes himself away from the door, walking over to Peter. "Just because I don't have to soften you up, doesn't mean I don't want to." He presses up behind Peter, his hands on either side keeping the wolf trapped against the counter. And it's not as though Peter couldn't get away. Chris may be a hunter, but he's still only human. But Peter doesn't even try to escape, just pushes his ass back against Chris. Nipping at Peter's ear, Chris reaches around, dropping his hand to Peter's crotch and lightly rubbing over the fabric covering Peter's cock. "Of course, softening you up isn't exactly the way I want to go."

"I'm trying to make break-- _fuck--_ "

Chris smirks at Peter's exclamation, feeling the cock he's now gripping start to harden in his hand. He strokes Peter slowly, rubbing his thumb over his cockhead.

"Chris--" Peter's head falls back to rest against Chris' shoulder, the wolf's eyes closing.

Chris' fingers move over Peter, feeling the snag of skin against skin that's just too dry. And Chris is about to hold his hand up, to tell Peter to lick, when he sees the bottle out of the corner of his eye.

There's a whimper of loss from Peter when Chris pulls his hand away, but Chris soothes him with a soft murmur. The cap for the olive oil is off, Peter having used it already that morning. He'd even used it for its intended purpose, unlike what Chris is planning.

Peter's eyes snap open as the olive oil drips onto his cock, throwing a look at Chris that speaks volumes, even in its silence.

Chris just grins as he puts the bottle back on the counter. Grins as his fingers go back to Peter's cock, sliding slickly over hard flesh in a way that's easy and right.

"I could do this all day, Peter." He's not lying. There's something heady and powerful about having Peter in his arms, about having Peter trust himself to Chris' touch. And Peter's responsive, all writhing grace and bitten-off whimpers as Chris jacks him. It makes Chris want to sink back into Peter's body, to mark him up as Chris'. But Chris isn't as young as he used to be, and even if Peter has a werewolf's recovery time, Chris doesn't.

So, instead, he focuses on Peter, on the man currently shivering in his arms as Chris tightens his fingers around the hardness he's holding. "You look so good like this, Peter," he says softly, words a murmur into Peter's ear.

There are noises coming from Peter that could be groans, or could be Chris' name. Chris thinks that maybe they're a combination of both. And Peter's getting close, Chris can feel it.

"Come on, Peter." Chris' voice is low, pitched perfectly for wolf hearing. "I want you to come. I want you to spill over my fingers so I can lick it off--"

Peter shudders harshly, his cock pulsing in Chris' grip and come both hitting the cabinet in front of him and running over Chris' fingers.

"That's it," Chris soothes.

He continues to stroke Peter's cock through the aftershocks, through soft twitches and the last dribbles of come. Strokes him until Peter pushes his hand away, leaning back into Chris' hold.

"You realise," Peter says slowly, like the words aren't coming easily, "that because of you, the last of the bacon just burned."

Chris glances over to the stove, where shrivelled strips of black bacon are starting to smoke. Maybe, he thinks. But it was absolutely worth it.


End file.
